“Not a thing. I could see in the caves as long as there was empty space, but I can’t see through this rock. I’m catching the power source through sound.”
“So what now?”
I take a deep breath. “I think I ought to find it, try to restore communications.”
Okay, I tell myself. That was not a lie. It’s just not the Centauri I want to restore communications with. I want see if I can talk to Dad’s field set. But it’s going to be tricky. And dangerous. And maybe impossible.
Jill frowns. “I thought we were ordered to cut off communications?” She’s caught me, but I don’t think she realizes it. Then she waves a hand. “Never mind. There’s no way Commander Faye sent that order.”
I look hard at Jill. She’s correct. That order was created by Dr. Sean Rodriguez. But how, exactly, is she so confident about it? I think of all those things Jill said about making decisions that were bad for my career, suggesting that the situation could be different from what I thought. But Jill wouldn’t keep something really important from me. Would she?
I really want to talk to Dad.
“No,” Jill says, still musing. “You’re right. Even just finding out what’s blocking communications would be huge.” She looks at me. “What are you thinking?”
“That you need to take awhile to get better, so I can convince Samara to take me Underneath. Into the city.”
“I have to stay in here?”
She actually does. I can see that she’s done in just from sitting up. But not so done in that she can’t be creative when she cusses. She falls back on the mattress.
“I bet you’re about to die of happiness, aren’t you?” she says. “Getting a chance to live all rough and pretech like the locals.”
I wouldn’t put it exactly that way. And I don’t like her tone.
“Fine,” she sighs. “But listen, Beckett. There has to be an exit plan. If this doesn’t work, if you don’t find it or it takes too long, we cross the plain anyway, okay? We’re not trained, and no one would expect us to stay in these conditions. It’s not sanitary.”
Leave it to Jill to think that living conditions are more important than our pretend orders. She was so out of it when I had her on my back, I don’t think she really gets how hard it would be to cross that plain now. I know she doesn’t understand how dangerous it will be to go down into the city. Because I’m not just going to look for their technology and try to make contact with Dad. I’m going to make sure Samara Archiva comes back out again. I’m going to help her do what she’s set out to.
Even if it means she Forgets me.
But I don’t think Jill really needs to know that.
Beauty, peace, prosperity, and justice. These are the gifts of the perfect society, what those of memory will bring to the Superior Earth. But the greatest of these must be justice, because from it flow the other three, and to receive that justice, there must be chosen a judge …
FROM THE NOTEBOOK OF JANIS ATAN
Annis, don’t you think it would be best to let them sleep?” I say. I’m slicing a loaf of thick bread. There’s one for every day of the dark stocked on Annis’s shelf, and slicing it is my one learned skill in food preparation. The preparation I haven’t done is getting Jillian and Beckett ready for the Outside, and I’m not sure how well the Earth and the Outside are going to mix. “Jillian hasn’t been well,” I go on. “And the rations … ”
“They sleep in my house, they can eat at my table,” Annis replies, smiling at my reluctance. “And I’ve already sent in Luc and Ari. They’re awake. And I’ve worked out the rations.”
Which means the neighbors are sharing. And then I see Beckett coming out of the resting room. My knife slows. His face is rough, hair mussed, and he lifts one hand, mouths the word “Hi” before Annis whisks him off, showing him the way to the latrines and the water and soap. I slice bread faster, insides twisting into a nervous knot.
Beckett Rodriguez knows everything about me now. Only Nita has ever known as much, and there were things in that book I never told even her. The feeling is uncomfortable. Vulnerable. Exactly what my mother warned me of when I wasn’t controlling my face. But it’s also … freeing. I caught one corner of Beckett’s smile as he followed Annis out, a smile that yes, he knew, and that yes, it was still all right.
And then I’m thinking that if I go back Underneath, that if I somehow manage to succeed in everything I’m trying to do, that I will Forget that smile ever existed. I feel the ache of a loss that hasn’t even happened yet.
I am so ruined. But there’s no reason that anyone has to know about it.
We sit. Beckett, Jillian, and Nathan on one side of the table, Grandpapa, Annis, and me on the other, the boys on the ends, Jasmina in her mother’s lap. The benches are full, cramped, and there’s a hole in this table at least a kilometer wide. I’ve never sat here without Nita, and I’m not the only one feeling it. Memories of her swirl, sometimes reach up and nudge, tugging. But I’ve just slept, and it’s always easier to control memories when I’ve rested. It won’t be later. I love this house, and being inside it is difficult.
Annis serves each plate bread and dried fruits, preserves, the last of the greens, working out the portions according to the rations. Bread lands on my plate, and I open my mouth to protest, but Annis speaks first.
“When did you eat? Has it been more than two days?”
I close my mouth. And see Jillian’s brows go up.
“All right, then,” she says, ending what was never an argument. “Who wants preserves?”
It’s an odd sort of meal. Beckett and Jillian are wary of mistakes, and Grandpapa and Annis seem determined not to ask them anything at all, even when the omission is painfully obvious. For a while, the only one talking is Ari, and that’s about waterbugs.
“Do you blow glass?” Beckett asks Cyrus, smearing preserves on his bread. His accent is like one yellow apple in a barrel of honeyfruit.
“Yes,” says Grandpapa. And nothing else.
I’m not sure what sort of preserves Beckett thought he was going to taste, but I don’t think it was pepper. I see his eyes widen, and out of nowhere, I have to hold in a laugh. Jillian takes note. She’s done with almost everything. Except the preserves. I hope she understands the concept of rations.
“You’re interested in glass?” Cyrus finally asks.
“Why would he be?” Nathan snaps. Not because he thinks glass isn’t interesting, but because Beckett isn’t worthy of being interested in glass. Annis shushes him and throws me an apologetic look. I Know what’s wrong with Nathan. He’s not angry. He’s sad, and now my guilt is as hot as the jelly. Jasmina tears the bread into pieces, eating from her mother’s plate.